Crushed
by HeavenlyTook
Summary: The accident changed everything, and now Molly's dreams are shattered and her hopes are crushed. She can't bear the pain anymore. There's only one way to stop it from hurting. Established Sherlolly, definitely a tragedy, trigger warnings in the author note.


**I wrote this because I felt like I needed to write something angsty.**

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: A lot of angst, character death, suicide (I think that should cover it)**

**Thanks for reading :)**

* * *

She hates the way it makes her feel. The way strangers stop and stare at her in the street like she's some sort of freak, the way she can't do the simplest of tasks without asking for help. She hates the way she looks, the way her face is covered in scars that will never go away. It makes her feels so helpless and alone.

People have started looking at her differently. It's always a look of pity, and speaking to people is always awkward because they never seem to know what to say. She hates being pitied. She is still the same person inside, after all.

Sherlock can barely look her in the eye. He was there with her when it happened. It was a week before their wedding. They were crossing a road, only a hundred metres or so away from Baker Street. Molly hadn't seen the car coming, and Sherlock wasn't able to pull her out of the way. The last thing she remembers was him frantically shouting her name.

And when she woke up she was in an unfamiliar bed, staring up at the white tiled ceiling. He was there beside her, holding her hand. She remembers crying when she saw herself for the first time. He told her she still looked beautiful, but Molly felt hideous.

Now, here she is, sat in Sherlock's armchair because she physically can't get up to do anything else. The television remote is too far for her to reach, so she's stuck in an unbearable silence, with only the sound of the cars outside to keep her company. Mrs Hudson is downstairs. Molly asked her for some privacy, although now she is regretting it. She is too embarrassed to call for her.

The quiet is lonely. Lonely and depressing. Sherlock should be back soon, but even ten minutes feels like a lifetime when she is this alone. She misses him. And she loves him with a passion that there are no words to explain, which is why it is so hard to tell him how unhappy she feels, and how much it _hurts_.

Today is the day she tells him. It has to be. She can't do this anymore. Today is the day she admits how she feels, and she is going to ask him for help.

She can hear the stairs creaking as he walks up to the flat, and it takes all her effort not to cry, because she knows she will never be able to do that again. It's such a simple thing, but knowing that she can never walk is crushing her. Her life is basically over already. All that is left is the pain.

"Molly."

This time she can't stop the tears from flowing. _That_ voice, _his_ voice. Knowing that he loves her means so much, but it's not enough to stop this deep depression inside of her.

"Molly, don't cry."

He walks over and kneels beside her. He presses a kiss to her forehead and she takes a shaky breath.

"What's the matter?" he asks, as he takes her hand in his own.

"I-I can't do this anymore," she sobs, "I hate myself. I hate how I look, I hate how I feel…"

"Molly, no, none of this is your fault," He gently kisses her cheek, "You are perfect, Molly. You're _my_ Molly."

Molly shakes her head. "No, I'm not perfect. You don't understand, Sherlock. I feel… I feel like my whole life has been taken from me and torn apart, I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and everything I have ever loved I am slowly losing… I think I've already lost myself."

"You've got me."

"I know, and I love you so, so much but I can't do this anymore, Sherlock."

He nodded. "Alright then. I'll find someone who can help you. They can make it better-"

"No, Sherlock, you don't understand," Molly took a breath, "I can't do this anymore. I can't… Every day is a struggle for me. Every day makes me feel worse and I just can't… I can't live like this."

Sherlock looked confused. "Molly, what are you…?"

"I need… I need you to help me. Could you do that for me? Y-you owe me it, right? After everything I've done for you."

"Molly… No…"

"J-just… If you could just… Please, Sherlock…"

"Molly, I'm not going to-"

"_Please_."

Sherlock blinks. She sounds so desperate.

"You… Want me to… Help you…"

"I want you to help me stop the pain," Molly tells, "Because I can't take it anymore."

"We can get more painkillers-"

"No, I don't mean physical pain. It's the feelings. I just feel so… Isolated."

"Don't feel alone. You've got me."

"I know. It's hard to explain. I just can't live my life this way. I hate it. I hate what happened to me, but I can't change it. And I can't live with that."

Sherlock wraps his arms around her and pulls her into an embrace.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Are you… Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I'm sure."

"Then I will help you."

* * *

Sherlock's hands are shaking as he takes the box of tablets from the cupboard. He can feel a lump in his throat and his eyes are sore from trying to stop the tears flowing. He loves Molly, and losing her will break his once stone heart, but he cannot let her suffer. He knows what it's like to feel alone and desperate.

He carries the small cardboard box over to Molly, along with a glass of water. She fumbles with the box, desperate to reach the tablets inside. Sherlock watches as she takes tablet after tablet, knowing that this is the last time he will ever be able to speak to her.

"Oh, Molly."

He can't stand there and watch her as if this is all _normal_. He feels sick and the tears are uncontrollable. He collapses to the floor; he's breaking down. He has never felt like this before and it hurts so much.

"Why did I… I shouldn't have let you…"

"I need this, Sherlock. I love you."

"I'm _scared_, Molly. I don't want to let you go. I can't let you go."

"You _have_ to let me go. I'm scared too. So, so scared, but soon it will all be over. I'll be at peace, and you'll live knowing that. Always know I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Always know that you're a great man, and the time I have known you has been the best time of my life."

"But some of the things I've said to you… I said some horrible things."

"It doesn't matter now, because I know you love me. And you know that too."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"I… Goodbye Sherlock Holmes."

He watches her drift into a long, peaceful sleep. He knows she will not be waking up this time. For a moment he considers calling an ambulance, but soon he begins to accept the fact that this is what she wanted.

There is silence apart from the sound of her gentle breathing, but even that stops eventually.


End file.
